Restore
by Silvermags
Summary: Tara Bright knows that something is wrong with her. She just... can't remember what. She's been remembering things, things that don't make any sense. And the moon is not supposed to be that bright. Sequel to Rebirth. You don't have to have read the previous work to understand this one.


She fluttered through the halls of her home, now rusted and decaying. Her once vibrant feathers were fading with every second that passed. The others weren't there. She didn't know where they were. When they'd realized what was happening she'd rushed off without a word to check on her fairies, her daughters, and now she was too weak to try and find them. She hoped they were together.

She returned to the main room, where she had brought her daughters stone bodies as they died. She hoped it hadn't hurt. She shuddered against the cold that sank into her bones. It wouldn't be long now. Landing as lightly as she could, she reached out to where her last surviving daughter lay, stone creeping along the edges of her feathers. Gently, she lifted her up, holding her close to her heart.

"I'm sorry, Baby," she whispered, "I'm sorry this had to happen to you. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

Her daughter smiled encouragingly at her, no longer able to speak but trying to convey her love and forgiveness in that one expression as the stone closed over her face and she was no more.

She choked, tears streaming down her face, and her knees gave out, collapsing to the floor beside her tiny daughters as the world… went… black.

Tara Bright opened her eyes with a gasp. For a moment she laid in bed, caught in the throes of the dream. Then she sat up, laughing and wiping her eyes.

"That was some dream!" she remarked to herself, swinging her legs to the ground, "I wonder if it meant something."

Tara didn't dream often, but when she did she always remembered it with stunning clarity. She stood up and stretched, then hurried into the bathroom to deal with her hair before work. "We've got a lot of work to do today, don't we, girls…" she trailed off, suddenly aware that she was talking to thin air. She lived alone, had ever since her parents had dies when she was eighteen. And even if she did live with someone, she certainly wouldn't be ordering them around, she wasn't anyone important. She hurried and got finished getting ready for the day and went off to work, ignoring her sudden sense of loss and the maddening sensation that she was forgetting something important.

Later on she found herself unable to stop thinking about her strange slip. It had been happening more and more lately, stopping to talk to thin air followed by a pang of loneliness and a certainty that there was something important she was forgetting. If only she could remember…

"Miss Bright! Pay attention!"

Tara shot upright, giving her superior a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Doctor Grant."

He sniffed and returned to the back, not noticing as she gazed after him longingly. She'd wanted to be a dentist growing up, but after her parents died she'd had no choice but to support herself any way she could, eventually leading here, a secretary in a dental clinic. So close, and yet so far. It didn't help that her boss was a jerk, either. She shook her head and turned to speak to... someone, but just like always, no one was there.

Walking home from work, Tara was startled by a flash of color that whirled past her face, tugging at her memory. She whirled to see a small public park where a mother and her daughter were watching a tiny colorful bird flutter around a patch of flowers.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Tara said, rushing over, "Do you know what kind of bird that is?"

The woman turned to smile at her, "It's a hummingbird, of course," she replied, "Isn't that right, Chelsea?"

The little girl nodded solemnly, clinging to her mother's leg. Tara smiled at her, suddenly bothered that the little girl wouldn't look her in the eyes. She shouldn't be scared. Tara should be fixing this, that was her job, and…

"Time to go, sweetie," the mother said, taking her daughter's hand, 'it was nice talking to you, Miss," she told Tara, then hurried off.

Tara watched them for a while, then turned back to the bush to watch the beautiful little bird, madly wracking her brain for what it was she was forgetting.

Late at night, Tara sat in her kitchen staring out the window at the crescent moon.

"What's happening to me?" she whispered, not sure who exactly she was talking to, "I don't understand, and I want to. I want my family back, I want to remember. Please."

It might've been her imagination, but she almost swore that for a moment, the moon shone a little brighter.

"I'm taking my lunch break, Dr. Grant," Tara called, slinging her purse over her shoulder. There was a grumbling noise that she chose to interpret as approval.

She smiled ruefully to herself and left, headed for the café a few blocks over she preferred. A jerk Dr. Grant was, but a predictable jerk. He might've wanted to keep her working, but he knew that if she didn't get to go eat things wouldn't go very well for him. Never underestimate a tired, hungry woman in the court of public opinion.

Suddenly a colorful blur appeared in front of her eyes. She blinked, and the blur resolved itself into a hummingbird, hovering so close to her face she almost had to cross her eyes to see it. It made a little chirping noise, then flew around her once before coming up in front of her again.

Tara laughed, "Hello there, beauty," she said, "Where'd you come from?"

It made the little chirping noise again, then zoomed off, only to pause a few feet away and look back at Tara expectantly, almost like it wanted her to follow it.

She stared for a moment, then laughed and ran after it. It chirruped again and zoomed ahead, never so fast she lost sight of it. As they ran, the world seemed to blur around Tara. The dull grass and buildings became spires in gold and pink, the ground beneath her dissolved into open sky. The little bird developed arms and legs and a smiling face, and for a moment, Tara thought she could almost remember the little creature's name. Then the moment ended, and Tara found herself standing alone in the park she had visited yesterday, the bird nowhere to be found. The shone unusually bright above her in the noonday sky. She looked up.

"Why?" she whispered to the sky, "Why?"

The little bird reappeared briefly to chirrup one last time, then darted off into the sky and was lost against the blue. In that moment, all Tara wanted was to spread her wings, wings she didn't actually have because humans didn't have wings and she was human, and follow it.

Returning home after a long day at work, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it, still turning the incident with the hummingbird over in her mind. She had no explanation for what she had seen and heard as she ran through the streets following the tiny bird. It had been like a dream, or a long-forgotten memory. But she'd never been anywhere like that before, certainly never with a tiny hummingbird person. And then the sudden urge to take off and keep following it, so strong she'd had to look over her shoulder to remind herself that she didn't actually have wings. And that moon… it shouldn't have been as bright as it was, or as big. She'd never been interested in astronomy, preferring to focus on things that were important to dentists, but even she knew that, It had actually been rather beautiful.

Tara shook her head, dismissing it all, and went to get ready for bed. She was too tired to try and cook anything. As she went to get in bed, she hesitated. Usually she tried to conserve energy and cut down on her bill by keeping her curtains tightly closed, but tonight for whatever reason, she threw them open to where the moon, huge and bright, hovered outside. That night she slept in a puddle of silver light as strange almost-memories and fanciful visions flashed across her mind's eye. She didn't know it, but the being sending them to her watched and smiled.

"Here. Come here."

"Where?" she asked, whirling, "Where are you? Where do I go?" She wasn't really Tara, she knew that like she knew her own mind, but how well did she know that anymore really? She'd forgotten so much, just beyond her reach.

"Here." A globe appeared in front of her. A single, silvery light sparked, then faded into the shape of a crescent moon, superimposed over a tiny town, labeled in big red letters.

"Burgess," she whispered, running her fingers over it, "But this doesn't answer anything!" she yelled, "What's happening to me? Why can't I remember? Why won't you just tell me?"

The globe vanished in a flash of silvery light. "Come."

Tara sat up, gasping. She panted, soaked in sweat, then turned to look out the window at the moon.


End file.
